


The Dangers Of Being An Archaeologist

by shelny18



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Archaeology, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelny18/pseuds/shelny18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is helping run a community dig when an accident takes place. Enjolras doesn’t take it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangers Of Being An Archaeologist

**Author's Note:**

> So today in lecture my lecturer started talking about what could happen if your trench got too deep. In an attempt to stay awake, I started writing this.

“So how are you finding archaeology so far?” Grantaire asked with a grin as he dropped silently into the trench behind Cosette, grinning even more when she jumped and span to glare at him.

“It’s shit,” she said bluntly, smirking evilly when his face fell. “Only kidding, it’s just as fun as you said it’d be. I even found some pottery.”

“Ooh, get you. Let’s have a look then.”

The pair climbed from the trench and he was busy talking her through the Iron Age fragment when Combeferre called him over.

“I will be right back,” he promised, placing the pottery back down in the finds tray.

“I’ll be here,” she smiled, dangling her legs over the edge of the trench as she sat down. “You make a good teacher by the way. I may have to come on your community digs more often.”

“Oh gods preserve us,” he laughed jokingly, beaming at Combeferre when he reached his friend. “What’s up?”

“The sky,” Combeferre replied dryly before pointing down into the trench he was stood next to, a cut of a ditch. “Don’t you think this is a little deep?”

“’Ferre, as much as I appreciate you thinking of me as the expert, even if it is because I’m the only archaeologist here you know, I must point out that this isn’t my trench and therefore not my responsibility. You’ll want to talk to Eric about that.” Glancing downwards Grantaire frowned. “Then again, this is way too deep, especially with the sides not shored up. Dammit, this is breaking just about every health and safety reg in the book. And yes, you can tell Enjolras you actually heard me mention health and safety.” Carefully climbing down to the first level, Grantaire leant over to look into the rest of the pit. “This is well over two metres,” he muttered under his breath, hoping his colleague had actually managed to find something to back up his choice to so blatantly break the rules. “It’s not safe.”

“Even I can tell that,” Combeferre muttered.

Standing Grantaire looked round the site quickly. “Keep an eye out for Eric will you; I need a word.” He sighed. “He should know better, the idiot.” As he brushed off the dirt from his knees the rope necklace round his neck finally snapped, it having been threatening to for weeks. “Shit!”

“Problem?” Combeferre inquired, eyes snapping back to his friend.

“The necklace Enjolras gave me,” Grantaire muttered. “It’s broken and in the trench.” Glancing up at Combeferre Grantaire sighed. “Do not tell anyone I did this,” he warned, before stepping forwards and jumping lightly down to the bottom of the trench. Crouching it only took him a moment to find the amulet but he stayed there a moment longer, brushing the soil out of the ankh engraved on the back of the scarab before standing and turning to face Combeferre’s disapproving look. “I can’t lose it,” he shrugged, making his way over to where he could see would be the easiest route out of the trench.

He had only a moment’s warning before the soil shifted, the movement in the corner of his eyes making him turn and pale instantly, the words already escaping his mouth as he threw himself at the side of the trench and the earth came crashing down.

“Oh shit…”

* * *

“What the fuck happened?” Enjolras demanded as he skidded to a halt in the hospital waiting room, looking round the friends gathered there worriedly. Courfeyrac and Jehan weren’t far behind him, both looking mildly traumatised, and Combeferre mentally note to have a word with Enjolras about his driving.

“There was an accident at the dig, some soil fell on him,” Cosette explained, her normally perfect nails broken and full of dirt as she lifted a hand to chew nervously at one.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Bahorel muttered. “I mean, ‘Taire’s a strong guy. How bad can some soil be?”

“Bahorel, the trench was about two and a half metres deep,” Combeferre replied quietly. “You’re not supposed to go over a metre and a half. Health and safety. He was at the bottom of the fucking thing, trapped up to above his chest.” The swearing told them all how stressed and worried Combeferre was, something was worried them all the more.

“That’s a lot of soil,” Courfeyrac murmured, face paling slightly.

Enjolras simply sat and rested his face in his hands, voice muffled as he spoke again. “How long?”

“Just over ten minutes until his chest was uncovered,” Combeferre sighed. “Long enough when you can’t breathe properly.”

“How’s his breathing now?”

“He’s still hooked up to a tube,” Joly said from behind them, making them all jump. He gave his friends a tired smile. “He’s allowed visitors though, so long as it’s one at a time. He can only just breathe at all.”

Enjolras was on his feet before anyone else had even thought of moving, and no-one was going to argue with the look on his face as he followed their friend out of the waiting room. The corridor seemed longer than ever as they made their way to Grantaire’s room and once there Joly simply stood to one side, letting Enjolras enter then closing the door quietly behind him.

Enjolras never even noticed.

“’Taire?” he said softly, making his way across to take the seat beside Grantaire’s bed, gently picking up his hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Grantaire whispered, voice raspy as he smiled up at his boyfriend. “Not doing that again though.”

“Why were you in the fucking trench in the first place?” Enjolras demanded, his fear finally starting to dissipate now he could see for himself the archaeologist was okay and recovering. “You would have known it was too deep, that it wasn’t safe.”

“It broke,” Grantaire said simply, reaching up to his bedside table with his spare hand. Quietly he held out the necklace, placing it in Enjolras’s empty hand. The long fingers closed over it, thumb tracing the engraving as the blonde smiled faintly. “I couldn’t risk it getting buried.”

“I’d have gotten you a new one,” Enjolras murmured helplessly but he knew that it could never be replaced. The necklace had been a gift when Grantaire was at his darkest and lowest, had helped him believe he could rebuild his life and keep on going, had reminded him that there was someone in the world who loved him no matter what, and that feeling was something which could never be replaced, not easily at least. “You’re more important.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Now promise me now you will never scare me like that again,” he continued, voice more normal.

Rolling his eyes Grantaire let out a low chuckle. “Yes mum.” Leaning up for a kiss both let themselves relax into it for a moment before Grantaire had to draw back and quickly pull in air. “I’ll learn to breathe again at some point I swear,” he muttered in reply to Enjolras’s worried look. “So do any of the others get to see me at any point?”

“Later,” Enjolras replied with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “They can wait.”


End file.
